Newlyweds
by windedeagle
Summary: Suze and Jesse are off for their Hawaiian honeymoon. But with the disappearance of another newlywed and a husband who is about to get away with murder, it might not be quite the vacation they imagined. Sequel to Finally, but can read as/is!
1. Chapter 1

Turbulence woke me up. I opened my eyes and looked out at clouds - thinning, white puffs of them. The sun was somewhere in the distance, trying to break through. I thought, just under the wing on the plane, which was facing down in a left-hand turn, I could see some green out of all the blue and white.

I felt a wet kiss on my shoulder. I turned to see Jesse, smiling a playful smile he usually only reserved for the bedroom. But I knew he couldn't help himself - it _was_ our honeymoon.

"Good afternoon, passengers," the overhead cracked. "We will be landing shortly on the beautiful shores of Hawaii, where it is currently eighty-two degrees and sunny. Please return to your seats and put you trays in the up-right and locked position. The seatbelt sign is being turned on for your safety. We will land at approximately one-thrity seven Aleutian time. Thank you all for flying Delta."

We broke through the clouds - there were the islands, lined up just like they were on a map. The plane tilted to the right.

"What do you want to do first?" Jesse asked, putting his head on my shoulder. We hadn't had much sleep in the last forty-eight hours, with all the ditching my bachelorette party in the middle of the night, then trying to bring a ghost back before she killed me, then the wedding, then the wedding _night_.

"Hum," I said, fingering his thick hair. "I was thinking we would check the firmness of the mattress, because you know how much I hate a saggy mattress. If that's okay with you, of course."

"Of course. Then what?"

"Well, I need a shower. Maybe even a bath. Does our room have a Jacuzzi tub?"

"I'm pretty sure," he said, looking up at me. "We will have to check that out as well."

I smiled and kissed his forehead. He sat up, stretching out his arms.

"What about dinner?" he asked.

I sighed. "Well, we can get dinner somewhere. I'm sure they have a snack machine on our floor."

He smiled and took my left hand in his, so our rings were touching. I had put my engagement ring back on as well, and with my diamond-circled wedding band it looked fabulous. "We can't stay in the whole trip, _querida_."

"Oh, I know," I said. "I plan to hit the beach as soon as we wake up and have sex tomorrow morning."

He smiled wider and shook his head.

The landing was bumpy, and I had to hold onto the seat in front of me. Where they letting the intern fly the plane? Gosh. The ground swelled to met us as the plane touched down, roughly, of course.

Jesse held my hand as we got our carry-ons and walked down the terminal. The airport was brighter than the one at home, with actual murals of birds and surfers and stuff like that on the walls. There were some people dressed up in flowered shirts - the girls tied under their boobs, their tanned stomachs toned and thin - handing out leis - and not the cheep fabric kind, either. These were made from real flowers. I noticed we were walking a little quickly to the luggage check. In fact, we walked quickly up to a taxi, which was driven by the nicest cab driver I had ever met, and then quickly into the front of the hotel, with it's views of the ocean out the huge back windows.

But, no matter how quick we were, we couldn't have missed the twenty-people deep line to check in. There seemed to be several more people in our situations - young couples holding hands, tapping feet, looking up at the rooms above us. There were even some who couldn't contain themselves that were kissing and giggling and groping - I wouldn't be surprised if they started making out on the floor within a few more minutes.

"Isn't there another way?" I grumbled to Jesse. He shook his head. He seemed frustrated as well. I looked out the windows, where the beach was calling my name. To the right of the reception desk was a bar with a flat screen TV over it. "Well I'm going to get a drink," I said, unhappy, and let go of his hand and make my way to the shiny bar.

"What can I get you?" the man behind the bar asked. He smiled at me. He was very tan.

"A dirty martini, please." I handed him my new debit card, complete with my new name.

"Just a minute," he said with another smile, and turned towards the expensive looking bottles of liquor and started working.

I stared up at the big TV. They kept showing pictures of the island, and of a big white hotel. The subtitles flashed by.

AND ARE THERE ANY REPORTS OF FOUL PLAY?

NOT THAT THE HONOLULU POLICE ARE DISCLOSING AT THIS TIME

THANK YOU, DR. JILES. CNN WAS THE FIRST TO REPORT OF STEPHANIE HILLS' DISAPPEARANCE FROM HER HAWAIIAN HONEYMOON LAST TUESDAY, AND NOW WE WILL BE THE FIRST TO INTERVIEW HER HUSBAND. TUNE IN TO NANCY GRACE TONIGHT AT NINE TO GET THE FULL INTERVIEW AS WELL AS MORE COMMENTARY. WE'LL BE RIGHT BACK.

The bartender sat my drink down in front of me. "Would you like to close your tab, Mrs. de Silva?"

I stared at him. Who was he talking too? Wait . . . wait!_ I _was Mrs. de Silva. "Um, sure." I gave him a smile. Maybe he wouldn't think I was too crazy. He swiped my card and handed it back.

I went to sit at one of the polished tables by the windows and watched Jesse. He was close to being next, and he was growing even more impatient. I watched his long body, covered in those awfully concealing jeans and t shirt, as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. I watched those lean muscles flex when he picked up our bags to move to the next receptionist. I watched him flash a smile in my direction. I downed my martini - it gave my cheeks a pleasant little flush - and walked quickly over to him.

"Have a good stay," the receptionist was saying as she handed him our keys. He gave them to me and rolled both of our suitcases behind him to the elevator (always my hero), which was idle on the twelfth floor. I pressed the up button.

Eleven. Ten. It stopped on nine.

Jesse groaned quietly.

"I have never seen you so impatient," I said with a laugh. Well, except with something other than me. He got very impatient with me sometimes - especially when we are going on a date and I run longer getting ready than I told him.

"I just want to get to our room." He gave me a sad look. "It was a long flight."

I pouted back at him. "The longest."

Seven. Six. Five. Four . . . it stopped on three.

I put my head on his shoulder. The alcohol had certainly calmed me. Jesse grumped about the elevator. Two. One.

The doors opened, and we let the passengers get off before we darted on. I pressed the button for the fifteenth floor and we started to rise.

I gave Jesse my sexiest little smile from across the elevator. He smiled back.

"So," I said, walking over to him and putting my arms around his neck. He smiled down at me, his eyes shining. "Who's on top first?"

He laughed. "How about we decide that when the time comes?"

"Or I could just wrestle you for it, if you would like. You know I always win."

He sighed and kissed my forehead. "Yes, I do know that."

The doors opened. He got our bags again and we hurried to room 1520. I swiped the key and turned the knob. Jesse caught it before it could swing open.

"Stay right here, _querida_." He took our bags in and was back for me in an instant, swooping me up in his arms and carrying me into the room. The heavy door shut loudly behind us.

"Jesse," I breathed. "It's beautiful."

The curtains were drawn back to show the full view of the ocean and the beach, and there was a deck with a big lounge chair. The room, centered by the king size bed, was very homey, and there were orchids everywhere. There were even two miniature bottles of champagne and two glasses.

"They wanted to know your favorite flower when I made the reservations," he admitted. "I think it was part of the honeymoon package. We get some other things as well, I just don't remember - "

I put a hand over his mouth. "It's wonderful. Perfect."

He smiled at me, and I nearly choked with anticipation. "Susannah, you make it perfect," he whispered, and laid me on the bed.

L7L7L7L7L7L7

I think it was around nine when I woke up to Jesse's wonderful kisses. They were everywhere - my lips, my cheeks, my chest, my stomach. I groaned and opened my eyes. The lights were off, and the curtains were open. The ocean was a rolling black sheet, and lights from the hotel glittered off the sand on the beach.

I looked at Jesse, who had his head on my chest and was staring back. He smiled at me and kissed me again, long and hard, on the mouth. Without braking the kiss he picked me up off the pillows. I wrapped my legs around his torso as his lips moved down me.

Then the TV came on. I jumped and stared wide-eyed at it. Jesse turned and gave it an annoyed look.

"What the crap?" I breathed. My eyes slowly adjusted in the light - some kind of news broadcast. Jesse reached for the remote and turned it off, then went back to kissing me.

It turned back on.

"And what do you think happened to your wife?" the anchorwoman - I had seen her before, I knew - was asking.

I grabbed the remote and hit the power button. It flickered, but stayed on.

"I don't know," a man was saying. "I think that she didn't take her medicine, because the detectives found the bottle full, and she wondered off when she went to the pool."

"And where did she wonder? Strait out of the Hilton and into the ocean, Mr. Hills?" The woman's voice had a distinctive Southern drawl - I squinted to see the Nancy Grace logo at the bottom of the screen. A picture of the Hilton flashed onto the screen, complete with a very familiar looking ocean front.

I pressed power again and again. It refused to turn off, only flickering when I pressed the button.

_No_. This couldn't happen on my _honeymoon_.

"I don't know," the man choked. "Let's hope not."

"Thank you, Mr. Hills, and good luck with the case. Now with commentary - "

Jesse had unwrapped himself from me and went to the wooden entertainment center, where he pulled the power cord from the wall. The TV flickered once more and went dark.

"There," he said, after a few choice words in Spanish. He looked at me. I pried my eyes from the dead TV.

"I'm hungry," I said quickly. Besides the fact that my stomach was rumbling, I needed to get my mind off that TV.

We put on our pajama pants and t shirts, then Jesse found some change and we headed to the hallway. There wasn't a snack machine on our floor, but we did find a map.

"There's one on fourteen," Jesse announced victoriously after studying it for a minute. We caught the elevator to the floor under us.

"There's no thirteen," I noticed when I pressed the button.

"Well," Jesse said, "the fourteenth floor is really the thirteenth, of course. You know how superstitious people are." He winked at me, like I should.

The snack machine was the the right, and we ran happily to it. We seemed to be doing a lot of running that day. In fact, I had never felt so carefree in my life - with the creepy TV thing aside, I mean.

"I want Fritos," I said, and put in my money. The bag fell and I pulled it out.

Jesse leaned up against the machine and looked over his selection. He had the perfect sex hair going on. I wondered if mine looked equally as sexy. He face glowed in the backlights from the machine.

"I think I'll take something sweet." He put in his change and got a Hershey bar. Then he smiled at me. "Anything else, _querida_?"

"No, I think I'm good."

We started back into the elevators and came to a dead stop at the same time. At the end of the hall was the very familiar sight of police tape, and the door was open. There was a cop by the door - he was watching us.

"Jesse," I whispered as we hurried onto the elevator. "What hotel is this?"

"The Hilton."

I sighed as the doors opened to our floor. "_Great_."


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up the next morning around eleven. My husband had disappeared, but had wrapped all the blankets around me before he left. I vaguely remembered the rough (from his stubble, I mean) kiss he had given me this morning.

I got out of bed and found the pajamas I had put on last night when we went to the snack machine. I sat in the bed and stared at the TV, which I itched to turn on, but I ignored it the best I could and went out on the balcony. The sun was warm on my skin and the sounds of a busy beach and pool floated up. Did these people know a disappearance - possibly a murder - had taken place in this very hotel?

"Are you hungry?" Jesse asked behind me, making me jump. I turned to look at him, in jeans and a t shirt and still styling the sex hair. "I brought you some food from breakfast."

"Yeah," I said, taking a deep breath. "Breakfast sounds good." My stomach grumbled in agreement.

He smiled at my stomach, then pulled me through the door. My breakfast had been laid out on the desk - fruit, cereal, muffins. I picked up a strawberry and popped in into my mouth. There was a brochure that said CONGRATULATIONS! on it. I picked it up and opened it.

"Here's all the honeymoon stuff," I said, turning in the desk chair to face Jesse, who was making the very messy bed. "Let's see . . . complimentary breakfast, oh, free beach chair rentals. That's nice. A coupon for two free drinks. Two free massages." I opened the third leaflet, and something fell out. I reached down and picked it up.

EAST COVE.

The words were written in blue pen on hotel stationary.

"Jesse," I said, putting the last of my breakfast away. "Do you know what East Cove is?"

He smiled at his handiwork with the bed and said, "Never heard of it, _querida_."

"Oh." I put the piece of paper into the drawer of the desk. "I'm full," I announced.

He came over and picked me up. I laughed as he kissed me. "Bed or shower?"

"Shower, please. I feel . . . " I kissed him gently. "_Very_ _dirty_."

The shower was very clean and roomy, and it gave us plenty of space to . . . take advantage of. Once we were finished I went to my suitcase which, compliments of Gina and her new job as a clothes buyer, was filled with all kinds of designer stuff. I found a Ralph Lauren bikini (the black kind with the pink polo horses . . . it was so cute) and put it on, then dried my hair and put on a little eye liner.

"I have no idea why you have to get dressed up to go to the beach," Jesse said as I put away my makeup bag.

"Jesse, not everyone gets the luxury of seeing me without makeup."

"It's a luxury?"

I gave him a dirty look.

"I was just kidding, _querida_." He came and wrapped his arms around me. "Can we go now?"

I fixed my hair in the mirror and nodded.

To get to the beach you had to walk past the pool, which had several waterfalls and a big tiki bar and a lot of annoying kids dashing in front of us. Jesse kept his arm around me, and I got a lot of jealous stares in my direction. That's right, ladies. He's mine. Eyes off.

The beaches of Hawaii looked a lot like our own. But, of course, we didn't have the wait staff, free beach rentals, and drinks.

Jesse had bought a paper before we came down, and had read through it and laid it in the sand. The wind suddenly picked up and the top page flew up and hit me in the face. I pealed it off and was face to face with a picture of a woman - brown hair, brown eyes, a little chubby, in her twenties.

CLOTHING DISCOVERED IN DISAPPEARANCE CASE the head line said. Under that it read: _A yellow jacket that Stephanie Hills was reported wearing at the time of her disappearance was found washed up on a Waikiki beach this morning. _

I looked over at Jesse. He was wearing his glasses, but I could tell he was asleep. I picked the paper back up and read the article.

_Stephanie Hills, the twenty-four year old newlywed from Tampa, Florida, was reported missing late Tuesday night. She was on her four-day honeymoon at the Honolulu Hilton with her husband of two weeks, Mark Hills. The couple had previously dined at The Golden Star, located only a mile from the hotel. Hills reported her missing after he came back from the hotel's bar late Tuesday night. He had reportedly left her in their hotel room after she had fallen asleep that evening. When he came back to find his wife missing, he searched the perimeter of the hotel as well as the beach before calling police. Investigators found a full bottle of anti-depression medicine prescribed to Mrs. Hills. "This looks like a classic case of wondering off from depression," Officer Tom Hanmark told _Sun_ reports yesterday morning. This morning detectives discovered a yellow sports jacket that Hills reported her wearing at the time of her disappearance on a Waikiki shore. Police are checking transportation records in hopes that Mrs. Hills traveled to the island Tuesday night. There is no foul play suspected. _

I read the last sentence again and again. No foul play suspected.

Seriously? A newlywed disappears on her honeymoon after her husband has had a few rounds at the bar? There is no record of her leaving one island for the next, and her jacket mysteriously washes up on shore one day? Were these people serious?

I put the paper down and shook Jesse's shoulder. He lifted up his glasses and opened one eye.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," I told him. "Upstairs, I mean. Our bathroom."

He nodded and let his glasses fall. I found my shoes and my matching Ralph Lauren cover up and walked determinedly back to the pool and into the hotel. There weren't many people around, and all the receptionists were at lunch. There was a new bartender, but he was watching baseball and didn't even look my way. I marched to the elevators and pressed the up button. The doors opened automatically, and I hopped on. I pressed the button for the fourteenth floor and waited.

I saw that the cop was still at the end of the hall when I got off the elevator. He watched me idly, but when I got close he straitened up and crossed his arms. He wasn't the same guy as last night - this one was in his forties and had a beer belly.

"I'll have to ask you to stop there, miss," he said when I got to the tape, which he was standing on the outside of.

"Actually, it's ma'am," I snapped, "and I would like to speak to a detective."

He narrowed his eyebrow. "Do you have information about Mrs. Hills?"

I bit my lip. There was least of a possibility Jesse would find out I did this if I didn't lie. "No," I said, still determined. "But I do have some things to say."

The officer refolded his arms. "Oh, really? And what would that be, honey?"

"I'm not your honey," I said, narrowing my eyes. "And who in the hell doesn't think the husband is involved? He obviously did it. I mean, you just don't go wondering off a place with water on _all four sides._"

He was getting annoyed. "You shouldn't make accusations without good information, _ma'am_."

"Come on! Are the interns running the investigation here?"

"Alright," he said, putting up a hand. "If you have anymore to say you can call the Sheriff's department."

I crossed my arms, not willing to be turned away. "Is there a detective in there? Because I would like to talk to someone other than the police department bodyguard, thank - "

He grabbed my arm. "That is confronting an officer, ma'am," he spat, and walked me to the elevator. "Now would you like me to press charges or would you like me to just take you to the lobby?"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. The elevator doors opened and he pushed me in. We rode in silence to the lobby, where the doors opened on the impossibly beautiful view.

Oh, and Jesse.

"Jesse!" I cried when I saw him. The cop pushed me off the elevator.

"Does she belong to you?" the officer asked warily to an open-mouth Jesse.

He closed his mouth. "Yes," he said. "I'm afraid she's my wife."

The cop let me go - only when Jesse had wrapped a hand around my other arm and pulled me to him.

"See that she stays _away_ from the fourteenth floor, please. And _out_ of the Hills case," he spat before walking to the front of the lobby and outside to the police car.

"I hope he chokes on a doughnut," I mumbled as I was pushed onto the elevator for the second time.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" Jesse hissed after he had pushed the button for our floor. "Trying to get arrested?"

"Jesse, did you read that article? About that girl that's missing?"

"Yes," he said, a dark look crossing his face. "And it is very sad, but you are _not_ going to get involved, do you understand? This is our honeymoon, Susannah. Please."

"You can't tell me what to do," I said when the elevator dinged on our floor. The doors opened.

"Yes, I can," he said, and grabbed my arm again and lead me down the hall. I crossed my arms and let him pull me. He swiped the card angrily and made me walk in before him. It shut back loudly. "I thought you had to go to the bathroom," he snapped.

"I do!" I yelled back, and stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. I sat down on the floor and shook my head back and forth. I was never going to get past that stupid cop, not to mention my own husband. Living together - and vacationing together - sure had its downfalls.

I peed, eventually, and yanked the door open and flopped down on the bed. Jesse went into the bathroom next. I pulled the covers over my head.

I heard the door open, then he got on the bed next to me. He pulled the blankets back. "Susannah, please don't do this on our _honeymoon_. You can find plenty of ghosts to help at home."

"But that's just it," I said, sitting up. "She hasn't come to me yet - which makes me wonder she's still alive, which if she is I couldn't give a crap."

Jesse smiled at me.

"But then," I went on, making him frown again, "what about the TV last night? Who was turning it on? And the paper this afternoon - her story just conveniently flew in my face? And that piece of paper . . . "

"What piece of paper?"

I got up and opened the desk draw. There was the note with the words EAST COVE still on it. I walked back to the bed and gave it to him.

His eyebrows came together as he studied it, then he sighed and gave it back. "So you think she's dead?"

I had to think before I answered. "Yeah. I think she is. I think she is, and she's trying to be ominous about it - scare us into it. Because we don't have to help her, you know."

"Oh, I know," he said bitterly. "And I still don't know if we are going to."

I played with the piece of paper.

"Well," Jesse said, breaking my concentration, "dead or not dead we have a dinner reservation at six. And frankly, _querida_, I think you need another shower."

I raised an eyebrow and put the paper aside. "Only if _I_ get to pick the water temperature. And I like my showers _hot_."

L7L7L7L7

Our reservations were at the restaurant adjacent to our hotel. The prices were decent, and the food was excellent. I had a feeling we would be back.

After dinner Jesse suggested a walk on the beach, and I quickly agreed. We walked down the boardwalk and to the cool, blue-tinted sand.

"You know," I said once we had stepped off the boardwalk, "I think that you have changed me."

He smiled over at me, and moonlight playing tricks on his face. "Is that so?"

I nodded. "I mean, I'm still me, just a little more mature, I think. I little more considering."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, my old self _occasionally_ breaks through, like today. But I think you've made me a better . . . me."

He wrapped his arm around me. "You have changed me, too," he admitted. "But for the better, I think. You have defiantly taught me more than anyone ever has."

I remembered those first few months - Jesse was like a deer in the headlights. He didn't know how to do anything - wash his clothes, run a vacuum, even shop for groceries. But I had been patient with him, and he had learned very fast. By the time he was accepted into collage in the spring he was doing most things on his own - except for shopping, of course. He could never match my skills at finding a good bargain.

"I love you," I said as we walked closer to the water. I had taken off my Prada heels and the cool ocean went around my ankles.

Jesse smiled and out his arms around my waist. I threw mine around his neck. "I love you, too, Susannah. More than anyone or anything else."

"More than you loved your family?" I asked, and wished I hadn't. He was obviously keeping the pain from his face.

He kissed my hand, the one with the ring. "Of course," he finally answered. "I never regret you bringing me back to life."

"Really? Are you just saying that so you won't hurt my feelings?"

He kissed my forehead and pushed my hair back. His eyes were so dark that I couldn't make out where the irises ended and the pupils started. They were darker than the ocean. "I have never, ever regretted it. Even when things were hard, even when I was in school, or I had no money, I still had you. And you, _querida_, are much better than money."

"But you miss your family," I whispered, not letting his gaze waver.

"I do," he whispered back. "But I have a new family that I love more."

"Me?"

He nodded. "You always have been. Now you really, legally, my family. And, hopefully in a few years, we can add on to our family."

I raised my eyebrow. "Well . . . in a _few_ years meaning four or five."

"I know," he chuckled, and took my face between his hands and kissed me.

I kissed him back, hard. His mouth was so soft and warm on mine that I started thing about other soft and warm places that would feel good on me, too. I wondered, if I kept kissing him, if I could get him on his back. I could wrestle his shirt off easily, and my dress was short and easy to pull up. Maybe if I kissed his a little harder . . .

Oh yeah. This would be easy. He grunted happily. Now if I could just get him on to the grown without braking the -

I screamed and jumped back.

"What?" Jesse yelled as I ran onto the beach, hitting my leg.

"Something . . . gross just wrapped around me ankle!"

He back out of the water and I came to stand beside him. I pulled out my cell phone and flipped it open, so the light was shining onto the water.

"That?" Jesse asked, pointing to a dark slimy looking thing. I nodded.

He found a thin piece of drift wood - more of a drift stick, really - and fished it out. He plopped it onto the sand next to us. He pulled out his phone to investigate as well.

I took the stick from him and undid the wad of black in the sand. I could now see it was cotton . . . a t shirt that said DAVE MATTHEWS BAND TOUR 2000.

My hands shook, but more with anger than anything else. "I'm going to get that stupid cop and drag him down here," I said, and stood up.

Jesse grabbed my arm. "Not by yourself, you aren't."

I sighed. "You think it will be alright?" I pointed to the shirt. I didn't want to touch it - what if they found some kind of DNA evidence to prove me right?

Jesse nodded. He threw the stick onto the sand and we hurried up the boardwalk and into the hotel.

The fourteenth floor was empty again - even the cop was gone. But there was still tape up around the door at the end, and I walked determinedly in front of Jesse to the open door.

I peered inside over the tape. There was a few people talking, and a man - a detective, since he wasn't in a uniform - came into the foyer of the room and stopped to stare at me. His eyes lingered a little to long on my dress as he asked, "Can I help you?"

"We found something that might be of interest to you, _detective_." I pulled Jesse closer to me so he could see.

"And what would that be, ma'am?" he asked, walking through the door and under the tape. If I hadn't been married - happily married, I might add - then I might had been interested in this tall dark headed hottie. But Jesse was much hotter.

"A shirt washed up on the beach while we were walking," Jesse said, crossing his arms. "And we're pretty sure we know who it belongs to."

The detective narrowed his eyes. "Where is it?"

"We left it on the beach," I said. "We didn't touch it - in case there's, you know, something on it."

He nodded. We all started walking for the elevators. The detective pulled out an impressive looking phone and tapped around on its screen with his fingers.

"Where you kids from?" he asked.

"Carmel, California," Jesse said, and I could tell by his expression he didn't like being called _kid_ by someone close to his own age.

Well, really, Jesse was a lot older. But the detective could have never known that.

"Is it nice there?" he asked as we walked to the beach. I wished he would cut the small talk. It was annoying.

"It's alright," I said. Just too many ghosts, sadly.

"Are you two on your honeymoon?"

"Yes," we both said.

The detective just nodded.

We had arrived at the shirt - it was a little less slimy now. The detective pulled out a pair of gloves and put them on. He crouched down in front of it, then he picked up the shirt and studied it.

"Is it hers?" I asked with excitement. He didn't answer - only pulled out a big plastic bag out of his pocket and draped the shirt into it. "Is it?" I asked again.

He stood up and looked at us. "Enjoy your honeymoon," he said, and walked off.

I started to go after him, but Jesse caught me. "Don't worry, _querida_," he said, wrapping and restraining arm around my waist. "If she needs us she'll come. You know that."


End file.
